


Shall Be No More Cakes and Ale

by bevinkathryn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baking, Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevinkathryn/pseuds/bevinkathryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has never been a master of the kitchen, but when an offhand comment from Arthur brings his culinary failures into fresh light, he decides to give it a try.  How hard can baking really be, anyway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shall Be No More Cakes and Ale

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick oneshot for my favourite season which was hugely inspired by this [great list](http://sweetsugarblossoms.blogspot.com/2013/09/i-freakin-love-pumpkin.html?m=1) of 50 pumpkin-themed recipes I found on pinterest (I recommend the dump cake—ridiculously easy and tastes amazing). Happy fall! 
> 
> Title taken from the Twelfth Night quote: “Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?”

Arthur made his way through his box-strewn sitting room, carefully avoiding tipping any one of them over.  Knowing Merlin, it was likely that one of the precariously stacked boxes contained some sort of previously unknown priceless, fragile family heirloom, the breaking of which would reduce Merlin to tears.  And Arthur could not bear a crying Merlin.  Which was why he was creeping through his own flat like a thief, hunting for his missing trainers.  
  
“Merlin,” he finally shouted, “where the hell did my shoes go?”  
  
“Check the vase in the hall,” Merlin called back.  Rolling his eyes, Arthur did so, but the floor around it was clear of footwear.  
  
“They’re not here!”  
  
“Look  _inside_  it,” Merlin insisted, poking his head out of the kitchen into the hall and sure enough, when Arthur looked skeptically into the hideous and expensive vase (a gift from his father, naturally), there were his trainers.  
  
“Why on earth were they in there?” he grumbled, fishing them out under Merlin’s smug gaze.  
  
“I didn’t want anyone to trip over them lying in the hall, and the closet was full,” Merlin informed him as he emerged fully from the kitchen.  “Figured we may as well use the damn vase once before I pretend to accidentally break it.”  Arthur huffed out a laugh as he shoved his feet into the shoes.  He didn’t have to look up to know that Merlin was still looking at him with that half smug, half fond smile.  
  
“We need to get going soon if we’re gonna be on time,” he said, straightening and giving Merlin a pointed look.  Merlin nodded.  
  
“Alright, just give me a second.  I think I saw my mobile in one of the boxes in the kitchen…”  
  
Arthur groaned dramatically as Merlin disappeared again.  
  
“It’s a good thing we’re not the ones having a moving-in dinner,” he said loudly, but his words were belied by the grin tugging at his mouth and the happy lift in his voice.  He knew Merlin knew that he’d happily bear the burden of half-unpacked boxes and too much furniture because neither one of them could bear to part with anything, because all of it was squashed into  _their flat_ —not Arthur’s, not Merlin’s, but theirs.  Together.  
  
“Shut up, you prat,” Merlin replied, and Arthur’s smile widened at the matching happiness in Merlin’s voice.  
  
“Don’t forget your scarf,” he said, throwing said scarf over Merlin’s shoulders and smoothing the matching hat over Merlin’s ears.  “Let’s go.”  
  
Arthur let Merlin lock the door behind them, with a key that wasn’t new but still felt like it because it was no longer on loan, before they left the building together.  Fall was really starting to kick in, but it was still warm enough to enjoy the walk to the bus, giving into the temptation to thread their fingers together.  Gwen and Lance’s new flat was only a short bus ride away, little further out of the city, and Gwen’s touches were already present in the cheerful curtains in the window.  Arthur smiled at them, remembering how they’d looked so out of place in his own flat.  
  
“You found it!” Gwen cried when she opened the door for them, looking flushed and happy as she ushered them inside.  Arthur gave her a smile.  
  
“The place looks great already.  I don’t know how you managed to move in so fast.”  
  
“Oh,” Gwen tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, “you know.  It was mostly Lance, really.  But come on in, everyone else is in the sitting room.”  
  
The sitting room was crammed with potted plants, several squashy chairs, and all of their friends.  They all waved as Gwen ushered them inside, and Lance immediately stood to welcome them.  
  
“Glad you guys could make it.”  
  
“Sorry we’re late,” Merlin replied, shaking Lance’s offered hand.  “Arthur couldn’t find his shoes.”  
  
“Does anyone need anything from the kitchen?” Gwen piped up before Arthur could.  “Lance, why don’t you give Merlin and Arthur a quick tour while I check on the oven?”  
  
“Good idea,” Lance said, catching Gwen around the waist on her way to the hallway and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.  Gwen beamed up at him, ignoring Gwaine’s loud retching noises from the sofa, before turning to disappear through a door that Arthur imagined led to the kitchen.  
  
Gwen’s touch was evident throughout the flat, but Lance’s presence was there, too.  Arthur and Merlin dutifully admired the framed paintings hanging in the hallway, the bookshelf of miniature knights and full-sized swords (the couple’s joint collection) stuffed in the spare room, and the pile of lacey but sensible pillows on the beds.  Lance was as thorough as ever in his tour, ending in the hallway just outside the kitchen just as it swung open and Gwen swept through, bringing with her the scent of freshly baked bread and holding a tray of warm cookies obviously just out of the oven.  
  
“Oh, I  _missed_ that,” Arthur groaned, tilting his head back and breathing in deeply.  Ever since he and Gwen had moved in together in uni, a constant stream of bread, cookies, cakes, and other baked goods had kept the flat warm and smelling like a bakery.  He hadn’t realized how used to it he’d gotten until Merlin had moved in and Gwen out, taking her cooking and the familiar aroma with her.   “Our flat never smells this good anymore.  You are a goddess of the kitchen, Guinevere.”  
  
Gwen giggled and shook her head at him.  “Hush, you.”  
  
“But I’m serious.  It’s not the same without your glorious cooking,” Arthur teased, swiping a cookie from the tray and biting into it.  Merlin traded amused looks with Gwen when Arthur let out an appreciative groan.  “No, this won’t do.  Lance, I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal your girlfriend back.”  
  
Lance chuckled as he slipped his arm around Gwen’s waist, giving her a fond smile.  “No can do, Pendragon.  You’ll have to make do with your flat smelling like it is.”  
  
Arthur heaved a put-upon sigh.  
  
“I understand.  Guess I’ll just have to make do with this one,” he said with a mock-disparaging glance at Merlin, who rolled his eyes.  
“How _ever_  will you survive,” he said dryly, his stern face lasting only as long as it took Arthur’s forlorn one to melt into a fond smile as he reached out to pull Merlin against him.  
  
“I’ll manage somehow.”  
  
\---  
  
It had been a joke, Merlin knew that.  His and Arthur’s relationship was built on comments like it, a constant back-and-forth that usually made Merlin smile with a warmth that didn’t match the insults they spoke.  It didn’t even resister on the list of Hurtful Things Arthur Says.  He’d even laughed it off, pressed a quick kiss to Arthur’s lips and sat beside him as they laughed with their friends all evening.  But something about it must have stuck and poked at Merlin’s subconscious over the past month, leading to this—Merlin stood on tiptoes in their kitchen, waving a tea towel at a shrieking smoke detector while the oven smoked faintly in the background, and Arthur standing in the doorway, briefcase in hand and a bemused expression on his face.  
  
“Merlin?” he ventured cautiously, stepping forward only to retreat hurriedly when the smell of burning dough reached his nose.  “Why did you blow up the kitchen?”  
  
The detector fell mercifully silent, and Merlin gave Arthur a dirty look.  “I didn’t  _blow up the kitchen_.  I’m baking.”  
  
Arthur raised a single eyebrow.  “Baking.”  
  
“Yes.  Well, I was.  And then—“  
  
“And then the kitchen caught fire?”  
  
“Nothing actually caught fire, stop exaggerating,” Merlin snapped, embarrassed and in the mood to be peevish, turning back to the traitorous stove and setting about detaching the charred mess that was his would-be brownies from the pan.  “I was just trying to bake brownies, but the stupid oven has more controls than an airplane.”  
  
Arthur made a choked laughing sound that Merlin pretended not to hear.  “Gwen never had any problems figuring it out.”  
  
An odd sort of sinking feeling dragged at Merlin’s stomach at the reminder, but he shrugged it off and grumbled, “Yeah, well.  We can’t all be goddesses of the kitchen.”  
  
Arthur laughed again and wrapped an arm around Merlin’s waist, tugging him away from the oven and against Arthur’s chest.  
  
“We all have our weaknesses,” he teased before pressing a kiss against Merlin’s temple, ignoring Merlin’s huff.  “What were you trying to bake for, anyway?”  
  
“I dunno, I got bored,” Merlin shrugged.  “The directions made it sound so easy, but I couldn’t figure out how to work the stupid oven right and then I spent half an hour fighting with it.”  He gestured despairingly at the mess of a baked good sitting in front of them.  “It won.”  
  
He glared when Arthur laughed again, shrugging off Arthur’s grip to start gathering up the pots and pans he’d been using.  
  
“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur groaned, grabbing him again and tugging him back, making Merlin squawk and nearly drop the bowl of leftover batter.  
  
“Oi, careful, you prat, or you’ll be cleaning up any messes,” he threatened, brandishing his bowl for emphasis.  Arthur, rather than apologize, reached out and stuck his finger in the batter before licking it off, making appreciative noises in the back of his throat.  
  
“Mmm.  At least this baking experiment of yours wasn’t a  _complete_  waste,” he said, grinning at Merlin’s annoyed face and reaching for the bowl again.  “Here, try some.”  
  
“What—Arthur, no!” Merlin screeched, not quite ducking in time to avoid Arthur’s batter-covered finger, which rather than going in his mouth wound up smeared over his lips and a good portion of his chin.  “Arthur!”  
  
“Delicious,” Arthur laughed, reaching out again, but Merlin dodged him, cradling the bowl to his chest and trying to pretend he wasn’t laughing as Arthur gave chase, the two of them ducking about the kitchen.  Until finally, Arthur caught Merlin around the waist and licked the remaining batter from his lips, and soon the bowl was forgotten entirely.  
  
\---  
  
That would have been that, if only Merlin hadn’t had some time to kill and shopping to do, or if Waitrose hadn’t been having a two-for-one special on cookie dough with even easier instructions than the brownies.  It started out well, too.  Merlin had successfully worked out how to set the correct temperature on their overly-complicated oven, spaced out each glob of dough, and even remembered to properly grease the cookie sheet to prevent sticking.  Feeling optimistic, Merlin settled in to wait.  
  
Except, as it turned out, he  _hadn’t_  worked out how to set the correct temperature on the oven, and by the time he realized his mistake the kitchen already smelled of burnt pastries and the cookies themselves were nothing but evenly distributed black blobs on his perfectly greased tray.  
  
“Fuck,” he swore, staring down at the evidence of his second failure.  The once-smiling pumpkins that had decorated them grimaced back up at him.  Well, at least Arthur wasn’t here yet.  What he didn’t know wouldn’t—  
  
“Merlin?”  
  
“Damn it,” Merlin mumbled, bracing himself.  
  
“Merlin,  _guess what_  happened during—oh.”  
  
“Hi, Arthur,” Merlin said with a forced smile, and then, because luck just wasn’t with him, “Leon.”  
  
“Did you…were you baking again?” Arthur asked, face pinched from the burnt smell still wafting out of the oven.  
  
“Ah.  Er, yes?”  
  
Leon looked like he’d be laughing if he wasn’t holding his breath.  Merlin huffed.  
  
“It wasn’t my fault this time,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and glaring at the vindictive,  _useless_  oven.  “Honestly, Arthur, we should just get rid of this thing.”  
  
He was thoroughly unsurprised when his contrary prat of a boyfriend just laughed at him before stepping over to his side.  
  
“It’s state of the art, Gwen picked it out especially,” he pointed out.  Merlin scowled harder, but Arthur was too busy looking down at the cookies to notice.  “You know, some of these might still be salvageable.”  
  
Under Merlin’s dubious watch, Arthur took one of the less burnt cookies and bit into it.  There was a jarring crunching sound, and Arthur froze suddenly, eyes wide and half a cookie in his mouth.  
  
“What are you d—oh my god, did you crack a tooth?” Merlin asked a bit hysterically.  Arthur shook his head and forced himself to swallow.  
  
“No, no, I’m fine,” he coughed.  “They taste great.”  
  
Which was so obviously a lie Merlin didn’t blame Leon for finally bursting into loud guffaws, though that didn’t stop him from glaring at him.  
  
\---  
  
Merlin woke up warm and comfortable.  He yawned and rolled over to see Arthur’s face smashed into the pillow beside his, still fast asleep.  For a moment Merlin considered just staying in bed, maybe waking Arthur up with a few strategic kisses and teasing him until Arthur rolled them over and took control.  The thought was tempting, but Merlin was on a mission, so instead he rolled out of bed, careful not to wake Arthur, and crept from the room.  
  
The muffin mix was still where Merlin had hidden it a few days ago after the idea’d occurred to him, safe behind the fancy cooking ware Arthur’s sister had given them as housewarming presents and neither of them could be arsed to figure out how to use.  Merlin grinned to himself as he set about making them.  He was sure this time would be a success.  All he had to do was follow the instructions and keep an eye out for any oven sabotage.  And even if he slipped up a little, what were the odds that  _all_  of the muffins would be ruined?  
  
All in all Merlin was feeling pretty confident by the time he settled in to wait, muffins safe in the oven and a cup of tea in his hands.  
  
He was just thinking about getting up to check on the demon oven when a pair of hands landed on his shoulders, and Arthur’s lips ghosted along the shell of his ear.  
  
“You got up without me,” Arthur murmured, making Merlin shiver.  He felt Arthur smirk against his temple before placing a barely-there kiss to it.  “I had plans, you know.  Lovely, very enjoyable plans that involved our very nice bed and blowjobs.  Lucky for you, I’m flexible.”  
  
“Arthur,” Merlin started to say, but a deep, hungry kiss shut him up straight away, and then Arthur was pulling him up out of his chair and pushing him none too gently against the counter.  Merlin grinned when he realized that Arthur was naked and just  _had_  to let his hands explore.  He was a little surprised when Arthur allowed it, but then again Arthur’s hands were busy pushing at Merlin’s sleep bottoms, pausing on the way to squeeze Merlin’s arsecheeks hard enough to make him squeak before pushing them down, along with Merlin’s pants.  His sudden smirk was the only warning Merlin got before Arthur smacked his arse, more sound than actual pain but it sent a jolt down Merlin’s spine anyway.  
  
“Oi,” he protested feebly, finally letting go of Arthur’s body but only to tug off his t-shirt to join in the nudity.  
  
Somehow, they wound up with Merlin spread out on the table, his legs hooked over Arthur’s shoulders as Arthur tongued the head of his cock.  Merlin let his head thunk back onto the table as Arthur swallowed him down, bobbing his head and dragging his tongue along Merlin’s erection with just the right amount of pressure to make him itchy with the need for more.  He nearly whined when Arthur pulled off to lick greedily at the beads of precome, and then couldn’t hold back a surprised gasp when Arthur took him back in, and kept going until his nose was buried in Merlin’s groin.  
  
Arthur hummed, and the vibrations made Merlin’s back arch, an answering moan dragged from his throat even as he tightened his hold on Arthur’s hair in punishment.  Arthur smirked, as much as he could with Merlin’s dick in his mouth, and did it again.  
  
“Bastard,” Merlin spit, the insult was ruined somewhat by the desperate grip he had on Arthur’s shoulder, pulling him in for more.  
  
Merlin was sure his eyes would be crossed from pleasure if he could drag up the energy to open them, because Arthur was just  _that good_  at sucking cock, and the smug bastard knew it.  He’d memorized all the ways to drive Merlin really crazy and delighted in pulling them all out at once, making Merlin shake and moan and clutch at Arthur’s hair until finally, he came.  
  
Arthur pulled off, and Merlin didn’t need to look to know he was still smirking but he did anyway, loosening his grip on Arthur’s hair in order to trace the bow of his reddened lips.  Arthur’s tongue darted out, and Merlin laughed.  
  
“Feeling good?” Arthur murmured, getting to his feet and bending down to kiss Merlin’s chest.  Merlin hummed, content and not caring even when Arthur laughed at him.  “How ‘bout you return the favor, then?”  
  
“You’re the one that attacked me in the kitchen.  Take care of yourself,” Merlin mumbled back, nudging Arthur’s thigh with his toes until he snorted and moved away.  
  
“Ungrateful,” he said mournfully, but his gaze was hungry as he wrapped his fingers around his own erection.  Merlin hummed and kept his legs wrapped around Arthur’s hips, tugging him close enough to kiss, until Arthur’s breathing hitched and Merlin just batted his hand away to replace it with his own.  It only took a few more strokes before Arthur stiffened, his mouth going slack against Merlin’s as his climax built.  Merlin stroked him mercilessly as he came, teasing out his orgasm until finally Arthur shuddered, over sensitized.  
  
They kissed again, and kept kissing until Arthur laughed and pushed him down.  “Let me at least get a napkin,  _Mer_ lin.”  
  
Merlin grinned but released him, sitting up and stretching out the kinks in his back from lying on a hard table.  For a moment, he felt like he was forgetting something, but then Arthur was back and Merlin shrugged it off in favor of kissing him.  And that was more than enough to distract him, until Arthur pulled away, nose scrunched.  
  
“Do you smell that?”  
  
Merlin opened his mouth to say no, and could they get back to the kissing, but then he did, and it smelled suspiciously liked burning muffins, and he suddenly remembered exactly why Arthur had had to follow him to the kitchen for morning sex.  
  
“Shit!” he shouted, pushing Arthur out of the way and running over to the oven.  He hurried to get his muffins out, but they were already past the point of saving.  Not a single one of them had managed to avoid burning, not even the ones in the very middle.  It took all of Merlin’s self-control not to just chuck the whole lot through the window, tray and all.  
  
Arthur laughed over his shoulder, and he turned to glare at him.  He was hit with the sudden realization that they were still naked, staring down at Merlin’s failed breakfast.  
  
There was no dignity in baking, Merlin decided.  
  
“Another baking experiment?” Arthur grinned, kissing Merlin on the cheek.  Merlin glared at him.  
  
“This is  _your_  fault.  If you hadn’t distracted me we could be having a delicious breakfast right now.”  
  
Arthur opened his mouth, and Merlin suddenly had the horrible feeling that he  _knew_  what Arthur was going to say, and silently willed him not to, but—  
  
“Well,” Arthur, the bastard, said anyway, with an unbearably gleeful expression, “at least I’ve already eaten this morning.”  
  
\---  
  
Merlin had truly given up.  The oven had beaten him, and Merlin decided it was better to bow out gracefully than subject their neighbors to another evening of having a burnt-smelling hallway.  So when Gwen casually offered to give Merlin the recipe for Arthur’s favourite pumpkin crumb cake, he was completely prepared to turn her down.  But then he caught sight of Arthur’s stupid face, looking eager and hopeful and so annoyingly excited that Merlin’s no, thank you turned into “That’d be great, thanks,” without him quite meaning it to.  
  
“Oh, it’s no problem,” Gwen had assured him, already scribbling away.  “It’s surprisingly easy to make, just follow the directions and you should be alright.”  
  
So here Merlin was, surrounded by far more ingredients and kitchenware than he could keep track of, carefully measuring out oats and sugar and flour and God knew what else.  The oven was preheating as per Gwen’s scribbled instructions, and Merlin had even managed to find a processor in the pile of gifts from Morgana.  The recipe was a bit more complicated than he’d anticipated, but Gwen’s instructions were clear enough that he was able to follow them with little difficulty and was even starting to feel cautiously optimistic as he slid the pan into the oven.  
  
Gwen’s instructions said to let it bake for an hour, so Merlin tidied up a bit before settling in at the table with his laptop, determined to watch the oven in case it decided to sabotage him again.  Everything seemed to be going well, though, and after a few minutes the kitchen smelled like pumpkin and bread.  
  
By the time the timer rang, the aroma had permeated the entire flat and Merlin was feeling both eager and nervous to see how the cake turned out.  Warily, he eased open the oven door and took out the cake, praying that it wouldn’t catch fire in his hands.  It didn’t, and even more miraculously it didn’t appear to be burnt at all.  
  
“Thank fuck,” Merlin laughed to himself, brushing his fringe out of his eyes and smiling giddily.  Now that the cake was put together, the rest of Gwen’s instructions were fairly straightforward, and once it’d cooled down and settled it only took a few moments before Merlin was finished and could admire his handiwork.  
  
The cake definitely wouldn’t be winning any beauty contests.  He hadn’t quite been able to spread the crumbs evenly, and it looked a bit lopsided as a result.  It was a little more burnt around the edges than Gwen’s usually were, and Merlin suspected it probably wasn’t as moist as hers, either.  But he couldn’t help but be proud of himself anyway, and suddenly couldn’t wait for Arthur to come home.  
  
As if his thoughts had conjured him, Merlin heard the front door open and the sound of shoes being kicked off, followed by Arthur’s voice calling, “Merlin?”  
  
“In the kitchen!”  
  
Arthur himself appeared a moment later, sniffing the air with a delightedly curious expression.  
  
“What on earth are you baking?”  
  
“Gwen’s pumpkin cake,” Merlin replied, not bothering to hide the pride in his tone as he gestured at his creation.  
  
“You made it?” Arthur asked incredulously as he came further into the room, eyes going wide when he saw the completed cake and the lack of fire.  
  
“Yep.  Wasn’t too hard,” Merlin shrugged, his massive grin belying his nonchalance.  “How was the match?”  
  
“We killed Mercia, as usual.”  Arthur finally looked away from the cake to narrow his eyes at Merlin.  “Is this why you skipped out on going?”  
  
“I thought it’d be a nice surprise for you.”  
  
Arthur’s expression turned so heartwarmingly fond that Merlin had to look away, blushing faintly.  A moment later Arthur was right in front of him, hooking a finger under his chin and tipping it up into a brief kiss.  
  
“It’s brilliant,” he said.  Merlin smiled again, and Arthur’s thumb swiped over his jaw once before letting go.  “Can we eat it yet?”  
  
Merlin shrugged.  “I don’t see why not.  Get a knife.”  
  
Arthur hopped to it, and in no time Merlin was cutting careful slices for the two of them.  Arthur hovered over his shoulder, bouncing like a child without even realizing he was doing it, and Merlin bit his lip to hide his laughter as he handed over a plate.  
  
“Cheers,” Merlin said, holding his fork aloft.  Arthur rolled his eyes but clinked their forks together anyway, and then together they took the first bite.  
  
The first thing Merlin thought was, ‘Not burnt, at least.’  
  
The second thing was, ‘Holy  _shit_ ,’ as his taste buds were suddenly attacked by too many flavors to taste good, salt and powdery on top of cinnamon and far, far too much pumpkin, and there was a great cracking sound as he accidentally bit down on an eggshell.  Merlin froze suddenly, too terrified to swallow, and glanced at Arthur to see he’d done the same.  His wide eyes would have been comical if it didn’t make Merlin want to cry as he forced himself to swallow.  
  
“ _Damn_  it,” he groaned, dropping his plate back onto the counter and crossing his arms.  “I swear I did everything right this time, I even watched the oven—“  
  
“Merlin, it’s fine,” Arthur interrupted, visibly shuddering as he swallowed.  “It’s really not that bad.”  
  
“It’s  _inedible_ ,” Merlin countered.  
  
“Well,” Arthur hedged, glancing down at Merlin’s latest failure, “yeah, alright, it is.  But it was only your first try.”  
  
Merlin said nothing.  He felt like an idiot.  He hadn’t even been able to make  _pre-made_  cookies, what made him think he could make cake from scratch?  Oblivious to Merlin’s thoughts, Arthur stepped closer and snaked an arm around Merlin’s waist.  
  
“Maybe you could ask Gwen for help next time,” he suggested, and Merlin’s face flushed deep red.   _Gwen_.  This was all her fault, her and her dumb baking skills were the only reason he was standing here in his own kitchen, embarrassed and feeling utterly incapable of doing something as simple as baking a cake for his boyfriend.  Arthur squeezed his waist.  “It’ll be nice to get some proper baking back in the flat.  She might even be able to teach you how to do it without blowing up the place.”  
  
Merlin knew he was teasing, but something about the words twisted in Merlin’s belly and made him flush even harder.  
  
“I don’t think you need any more of her baking,” he snapped, yanking himself out of Arthur’s arms with a huff.  He was vaguely aware of Arthur’s surprised expression, but he ignored it in favor of stomping over to the counter and viciously throwing everything in the sink.  When he finally turned around, it was to see Arthur still staring at him.  “What?”  
  
“Are you feeling alright?” Arthur asked, brow puckered in a frown.  
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
“You’re not acting fine.”  
  
“Well, maybe because  _you’re_  acting like a prat,” Merlin replied childishly.  Without waiting for a response, he whipped back around and moved to toss the cake pan into the bin.  Except Arthur’s hand had shot forward just as his did and grabbed it, too, resulting in more of a slight jerk than a toss.  “Let go, Arthur.”  
  
“No.  What’s wrong with you?  You’re acting like someone kicked your cat.”  
  
“We don’t have a cat.”  
  
“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur groaned, patience cracked, “stop it.  You’re acting like a child.  Is this about the cake?  It’s not a big deal, I’m sure Gwen couldn’t even get it on the first try—“  
  
“I don’t want to talk about  _Gwen_ ,” Merlin groaned, letting the pan clatter down in order to throw his hands in the air.  “Face it, Arthur, no matter how many recipes she gives me or how many ties she comes over her to ‘help me’, I’m still going to be awful at baking.  If you wanted perfect cookies every day or, or—cakes and bread and all that shit, you should’ve kept living with her.”  
  
It wasn’t until Merlin saw the wave of comprehension wash over Arthur’s face that he realized he might’ve said more than he’d meant to.  
  
“Is that what this has been about?” Arthur asked slowly, gesturing at the kitchen at large.  “You think that I...need you to be my housewife, or something?”  
  
“No,” Merlin said mulishly, even though that was more or less exactly what he’d been thinking.  Arthur gave him a disbelieving look.  “Not  _exactly_ ,” he amended finally, crossing his arms and refusing to look any higher than Arthur’s knees.  
  
A moment of silence passed, and then Arthur stepped forward and hooked a finger beneath his chin.  
  
“You,” he began, tugging until Merlin met his gaze, “can really be an idiot sometimes.”  
  
“Great, thanks,” Merlin said dryly but Arthur shook his head.  
  
“If you insist on talking about feelings, just listen, and carefully, because I’m only saying this once and then we’re going back to being the emotional cripples we’re so good at being.”  
  
He fixed Merlin with a serious look.  
  
“I knew exactly what I was getting into when I asked you to move in with me, and I wanted it.  I couldn’t give less of a shit if you burn cookies or make salty cakes.  I don’t mind losing everything Gwen did for me because instead I get you to muck up my kitchen, and misplace my laundry, and have spectacular sex with in inadvisable places all around the flat.”  Merlin laughed, almost in spite of himself.  Taking this as a sign, Arthur stepped forward and placed his hands on Merlin’s hips.  “Alright?”  
  
Merlin didn’t answer right away, instead moving his hands up to rub at Arthur’s shoulder before he finally nodded.  “You’re still a prat, though.  I might make you keep trying my baking experiments just to punish you.”  
  
Arthur sniggered and tightened his hold on Merlin’s hips.  
  
“How about, I promise to be first in line to taste any and all future baking experiments you choose to attempt?”  
  
“Even you don’t deserve that punishment,” Merlin laughed, leaning forward to press a quick, chaste kiss to Arthur’s lips, “most of the time.”  
  
Arthur laughed, too, tugging Merlin in closer.  Then, while Merlin watched, he reached out and grabbed a piece of Merlin’s pathetic excuse for a cake, before shoving the entire handful in his mouth.  
  
Merlin gaped, and then burst out laughing at Arthur’s expression as he fought to chew and then swallow, not even bothering to hide his shudder this time as he finally managed it.  
  
“See?” he said with false bravado, spreading his arms wide.  “It wasn’t so bad.”  
  
“Idiot,” Merlin replied, and then pulled him closer to kiss the taste from his mouth.


End file.
